Page 160 of Under Your Scars
I get it. No one wants to pull the plug on Christian Reeves.
Shaking, I help Caroline back up onto the bed. Trying, and failing, to hide my tears, I tell her, “Okay, Caro.” My voice cracks. “Say goodbye to daddy. Tell him you love him and give him a big hug.”
Caroline stares at me, confused. “Where is he going?”
A pained whimper escapes my throat. “He’s going to go see his parents.”
She doesn’t understand, and I’m not sure I want her to. She gives him a hug and a kiss.
“Bye-bye, daddy. I’ll miss you.”
I tug Caroline into my chest and hold her head in the crook of my neck, facing away from him, because she doesn’t need to watch this. I hold her as tight as I can and stroke her hair while I sob quietly and nod at the doctors and medical assistants to just get it over with.
Dr. Portman clears her throat quietly. “We’re going to administer a sedative to make sure he’s comfortable.”
I nod, unable to open my eyes. It goes eerily quiet for a few seconds, and then I think I feel my own heart stop.
“I can’t believe you’d let me go without a goodbye kiss, angel.”
My eyes fly open, and I go stiff in complete shock. Christian’s eyes are open. He’s smiling at me, with that same charming smile I fell in love with and those icy blue eyes full oflife.
“Daddy!” Caroline giggles, pulling out of my arms and receding into his. She lands on him with a thud and he grunts in pain.
I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
And then, all at once, that shock is replaced with pure, unfiltered relief. If he wasn’t in that bed with a bullet hole in his chest, I would have launched myself into his arms and squeezed him until it hurt.
Instead, I choke out a garbled, ugly sob, hold his cheeks in my hands, and kiss him. “What took you so long?”
Christian circles my wrist with his cold fingers. “I met Death.”
I take my bottom lip in my teeth. “And?”
Christian brushes a strand of hair back from my face, and looking deeply into my eyes, he whispers, “I told him to go fuck himself, because I’m not going anywhere without you.”
CHAPTER 50
THE ANGEL
“Drink,” I command, handing Christian a water glass.
He lightly chuckles. “Yes, Dr. Young.”
We’ve been home for a few days now, and I haven’t let Christian lift a finger since we got back. I know I’m driving him insane.
He doesn’t like being taken care of. It makes him feel helpless and weak. He thinks it’s dehumanizing. I’ve lost track of how many times he’s grumbled about how he’s supposed to be the one taking care of me.
I run my fingers through Christian’s messy hair and smirk. He needs a haircut. So unkempt. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“How many times must we have this conversation? You’re not fine. You’ve been shot. Youdied. Once in my arms and then again in surgery. You were unconscious and unresponsive foreight days.” I take a deep breath. “Eight days, Christian. So do not tell me you’re fine. Tell me how you’re feeling.”
He licks his teeth, a glimmer in his eyes in response to my defiance. He playfully rolls his eyes. “It hurts.”
“How bad?” I ask, grabbing the orange prescription bottle.
“Seven out of ten.”
